


At Play

by corikane



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corikane/pseuds/corikane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grounded by Artie, Myka and H.G. find time to get to know each other a little better. Takes place somewhere between "Vendetta" and "Buried," in the bottomless timeframe where most Bering and Wells-fics take place.<br/>(No copyright infringement intended.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Play

When Artie entered the B&B that Sunday morning, Claudia just slammed with her back into the the table in the hall and had he been a second later he would not have been able to safe the vase - one of Leena's favorites - that started toppling off. Claudia paid it no heed and dashed back into the living room, tesla at the ready.  
There was a flash of blue lightning and he heard Myka yell in triumph:  
"Gotcha!" Claudia herself squeaked unpleasantly. Artie put the vase back down before stomping into the living room and smashed into Pete who had not seen him coming and then they were both tesla-ed by H.G. Wells who had come after Pete in a run. To his surprise, Artie did not find himself on the floor and unconscious after this attack. Though the slight electric shock he received was unpleasant it was by no means what he would have expected.  
"What...," he stuttered as Myka and H.G. high-fived each other in victory.  
"We are the winners, you are the losers," Myka sang out and did a little happy dance in front of Pete and Claudia and thus also in front of Artie who looked from one agent to the next as if they all had lost their minds. H.G. merely smiled but her eyes lingered on the tall dark-haired agent who was seldom seen this childish.  
"Could anyone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Artie demanded in his grumpiest of grumpy voices. Myka stopped her dancing while Pete found himself on the receiving end of Artie's questioning glare.  
"Why do you look at me? It wasn't... okay, it was my idea, technically, but Claudia helped." That brought on another glare, this time from his partner in crime.  
"Leena has been gone three hours and you... all of you, have managed to create this chaos!" boomed the small round man and looked at each of his agents in turn. His look seemed to become even more stern when his eyes fell on the woman who he would rather not have called one of his own. But then he looked at Myka.  
"And you... you are supposed to stop them when they get this out of hand," he bellowed at her.  
"Why do I always have to be the adult?" Myka gave back, pouting.  
"Because you ARE the adult!" Artie answered, not unkindly. He gave H.G. another scorching look before he went back to ignoring her and took Claudia's tesla. "And what have you done with the teslas again?" He reached for Pete's and Myka's in turn. H.G. gave hers up as well. He put them all into his big bag.  
"I have just modified them a teensy bit so we could play..." It was the wrong word and she knew it as soon as she'd said it.  
"PLAY?! These are weapons. They may not have been designed to kill but they are still WEAPONS, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!"  
"Aww, Artie, come on. You've already forbidden us paintball..."  
"For good reason. Do you have any idea how long Leena scrubbed that paint off the windows after your last session? Have you? No, you don't because you hid in the Farnsworth aisle at the time too scared to face her." Pete looked sheepishly at his feet.  
"I was just taking inventory," he mumbled under his breath but said no more when the eyebrows of wrath lifted manacingly. They found the rather bemused brown eyes of the writer and his own eyes blazed.  
"Almost 150 years old and playing with these children, agent Wells?" The word "agent" got an unpleasantly mocking ring to it when Artie used it in combination with Helena's last name. "What have you to say for yourself?"  
"I considered it to be target practice," Helena explained reasonably and Artie was about to lose it on her when Myka - not happy at all with the way the older agent treated the writer - interrupted:  
"And that's all it really was, Artie. You always tell us..."  
"Quiet!" roared the small man and Myka shut her mouth only to open it again. But Artie's mere look stopped her words short on the way to her mouth. He was furious, not mock furious as he sometimes was but dead furious and she sensed that their playing with the teslas was only the drop that tipped him over the edge. Myka knew - as did everybody in the room - that the bigger issue lay in the permanent residence of H.G. Wells in his life and work, in all their lives and works. The only respite from this was that Artie was not living at the B&B and that thus the evening hours were spent without the tension that had soaked through every dealings within the warehouse. Helena had taken to do inventory when not necessarily needed and since Artie would not put her in the field that was pretty much all she was doing - although Myka was sure there were several smaller projects - projects Artie would not find to his liking - that Claudia had her tangled up in.  
"I want you all to go up to your rooms and stay there," Artie said forcefully.  
"That almost sounds like you are grounding us," observed Claudia which got her another stern look from Artie.  
"And that is exactly what I am doing," he said without the slightest hint of humor in his voice. "If you behave like children, you will be treated like them. Now up! I am meeting here with Mrs. Frederick and I want no interruptions."  
There was a short pause when all his agents looked at him then at each other. His face was unmoving and they followed his command and went up the stairs.  
"Hey, guys, how about Back-to-the-Future-trilogy at the casa de Pete. I have the movies, you bring the snacks," Pete suggested half-way up. Downstairs, Artie rolled his eyes but let it pass. They could do how they pleased upstairs as long as they were not teslaring each other.  
The other agents murmered their consent with Helena throwing in "I don't understand but I think I still got some short bread in my room."

Evening

Myka sat against the hardboard of her bed, her long legs stretched in front of her and a book lying open in her lap. She wasn't reading, though, but rather flipping through the well-worn pages for some marked passages, passages she cherished. There was a knock and she closed the book on a finger as she called toward the door:  
"I am not going to watch the Matrix-trilogy with you, Pete, so just go away!" He had wanted to watch these films after the Back-to-the-Future-marathon they already put in but neither did Myka want to watch another movie nor the second and third of that particular trilogy - ever again.  
"I am not Pete," the unexpected reply came muffled through the door but still recognizable as Helena's British lilt.  
"Oh, come in," Myka replied immediately and the door opened to reveal the writer. She smiled shyly. She had not yet been in Myka's room, the tall agent being far more private than either Pete - who invited everybody over for frequent movie-watching and cookie-eating - or Claudia - whom Helena has had long discussions with over inventions of the past 100 years and who explained most of them to Helena's satisfaction. On this occasion, Myka smiled encouragingly at the writer as the other woman stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. Helena swept the room with her eyes, trying to take everything in but failing as her gaze returned altogether too eagerly to her hostess. Her short perusal left her with the impression of comfort and a great variety of books that not only filled a shelf but also most of the flat surfaces in the room. There was even now a small stash next to Myka on the bed.  
"I didn't mean to interrupt your reading. I could come back later," Helena offered with a wave at the book in Myka's hands.  
"That's okay. If people didn't interrupt me reading, I would spent little time doing anything else." They shared a knowing smile, recognizing each other as kindred spirits in this regard.  
"I am amazed that you can bring yourself to read after watching those movies. I find watching a screen for so long rather challenging."  
"Is that why you left mid-way through the third movie?" Myka inquired but Helena shook her head.  
"No, I don't find the Western trope to my liking, I am afraid. Also, I felt left out of the joke as I don't know who Clint Eastwood is." Myka laughed while Helena grinned sheepishly.  
"Well, I would advice you not to ask Pete about him," the tall agent said. "I'm pretty certain he has all of Eastwood's films on either dvd or blue-ray. You really don't want to subject yourself to that kind of watch-a-thon." Helena nodded.  
"That sounds like good advice," she concurred. They again smiled at each other. Myka felt that well-known pull again. She had noticed it the first time when they met in England, in H.G. Wells' house. They had looked into each other's eyes and there was a strange sense of understanding, an undercurrent of... Myka wasn't sure what. Pete hadn't felt it, Myka was sure, but the agent could have sworn there was an electric energy in the room. And it had nothing to do with teslas.  
She had a hard time pulling her eyes and thoughts away from it now.  
"Won't you sit down?" Myka asked since Helena still stood near the closed door and she became tired of looking up at her yet unwilling to let her go away so soon.  
Helena smiled her thanks and sat down at the end of her bed, Myka's rocking chair being occupied by some clothes and more books. They smiled at each other shyly then giggled because of the shyness.  
"How did you like the movies, though? I mean, after all, they belong to the genre you created."  
"The first one I really liked. It felt like an homage to my work. The second one... it was very dark. And the clothes were..." Myka laughed.  
"No time like the 80s." She agreed.  
"Claudia showed me some music videos of the time. It is hard to believe that only 100 years have passed between what I remember and the things these people were wearing... and doing. This decade seems a lot more moderate."  
"It is although some of what we're wearing these days links back to then. Pants, boots." She smiled at Helena who listened attentively. "You spend a lot of time with Claudia. Are you talking about these things with her?"  
"Claudia is a very modern young woman, a lot of what she says does not make any sense to me." Myka had to laugh at this, she herself didn't understand all the references Claudia used. But theirs was the difference between a tech nerd and a book nerd and they had a lot of common ground. She couldn't even imagine how Helena who had been born more than a century before and on a different continent worked her way through Claudia's specific language. "But whenever I have a question she is able to break it done to the smallest common denominator: the English language. I find her an exceptionally bright young lady. I wish there had been more women like her around in my time."  
"I doubt you will find a lot of women like Claudia even in our time. You were just lucky to find a fellow genius. And I am lucky because I am working with two bright minds like yours." Many a person would have blushed to be called a genius, Helena just smiled confidently. She made herself more comfortable by leaning back on an elbow facing Myka who in turn pulled her long legs up to give the writer more room.  
"I was wondering...," the tall agent said after a short while in which their eyes had locked and she once again felt that particular pull, an attraction. Helena lifted an eyebrow and Myka smiled. "You are a writer, after all..."  
"You were wondering whether my muse has yet kissed me?" Myka was almost certain that Helena had used that particular phrase on purpose. The writer's lips quirked into a sexy half-smile and Myka became aware where her eyes had wandered, she blushed. Then she nodded.  
"Well, Claudia is currently trying to teach me how to use a computer and I have written a couple of pages on a writing sheet, have safed them apparently and have yet to find them again." Myka laughed and Helena's own deep laughter mingled with hers.  
"It's easy, you just have to..."  
"Ah, ah, ah." Helena lifted a warning finger. "I will not be able to learn if people tell me things I should already know. Claudia has explained it to me and I will in time regain that particular lesson, I am sure. It is not like these pages were especially good, I just wanted to see what I would come up with."  
"And what have you come up with?" Myka asked curiously. Helena gave her a broad smile, recognizing the eagerness in the other woman's voice as that of fan of her work.  
"I have tried to put some of the things Claudia told me into perspective with my own time. Imagined how it would be to be back then and knowing what I know now. They are but snippets yet. But I am thinking of creating a hero around it and maybe then it will all coalesce into a story."  
"And what kind of hero would you like to create?" Helena smiled.  
"In the past, I was limited to male heroes because my society would not recognize the potential of a female hero. So, I imagine that I would like to create a heroine. Someone tall, with dark locks and green eyes. Someone who could hold her own against any attacker and look gorgeous doing so." Myka blushed and bit her lower lip. Helena was obviously flirting with her, her dark eyes delving deeply into her own searching for a reaction. Myka wasn't sure what her reaction should be, this was a rare occasion, something she wasn't accustomed to.  
"Do I make you uncomfortable, Myka?" Helena asked softly, the timbre sending a chill down the agent's spine. Helena lowered her gaze from Myka's eyes and the tall woman found that she could breathe easier but only until she realized that Helena was looking at her lips and her breathing hitched. The writer licked her own before her eyes found Myka's once more.  
"I... No, I..." Helena's lips broke into a dazzling smile, she obviously enjoyed Myka's predicament. The agent closed her eyes for a moment and took a few long breaths to calm herself. When she opened her eyes again, Helena had abandoned her earlier position at the foot of the bed and now sat much closer. Myka's eyes widened in surprise. They were not touching but they were close enough that they could.  
"Do I make you uncomfortable, Myka?" Helena repeated the question, her voice even softer than before. Myka shook her head.  
"No, I'm just not used to... another woman flirting with me," she finally finished the sentence. In truth, she wasn't used to people flirting with her at all. She mostly showed people her no-nonsense professional self, the woman with a badge and the gun to go with it. Most men found that discouraging and women probably even more so. Her private self was the one she showed only to her friends and family, and the people she worked with at the warehouse. But none of them flirted with her - except for Pete who now and then tried his luck knowing that she saw him rather as a brother than boyfriend-material. But now Helena belonged to this small group of people she could be herself with, and she felt attracted to her. And she had never been attracted to a woman before. She didn't know the rules, didn't know if there even was a different set of rules.  
"Oh," Helena contemplated this information. "I thought the time being what it is it would be a lot more common..."  
"It is," Myka interrupted and blushed over her eagerness. "Just not for me."  
"I find that very hard to believe", Helena said, her gaze once again drifting from Myka's eyes down to her lips and from there lower and over Myka's entire form, leaving a blazing trail of goosebumps on every square-inch of the agent's skin. Myka swallowed hard, she shifted under the penetrating gaze of the writer, her legs stretching out in front of her again. Helena seemed to take this as an invitation to come even closer. Her hand reached over Myka's hips next to the stack of books and she leaned on it, bringing her face to face with the agent.  
"It is common, then, for women to engage in... physical relationships with each other?" Though it sounded like a question, Myka could read in Helena's eyes that she already knew the answer to it. She nodded none the less. "But it is not something you have ever engaged in?" Myka shook her head, only vaguely aware that she did it. She lost herself in the look from those dark brown orbs that had fascinated her from the moment they had met. She found it difficult to breathe and was very aware that they were still barely touching. She couldn't remember anybody having quite this kind of effect on her, the breathless yearning that made her heart flutter in her throat. Myka became aware of the fact that they moved toward each other, saw Helena's toungue flick over her lips, felt hers doing the same as if in answer and then...  
There was a knock at the door.  
The agent released a frustrated growl and even Helena looked annoyed for a second. Then she slid to the edge of the bed and faced the room rather than Myka.  
"What is it?" Myka called to the door which opened to reveal Pete's head. He stuck it inside the room as if he had expected to find Myka sitting on her bed. What he hadn't expected - and this was clearly written on his face - was the writer sitting next to his partner.  
"Hey, Helena, what are you doing here?"  
"Just visiting," Helena smiled at Pete and he nodded before he shifted his attention back to Myka.  
"Hey, Mykes, say, do you have some more of those cookies your mom sent?" Myka rolled her eyes at that.  
"No, you ate them all earlier, remember?"  
"Yeah, but I thought maybe you have left some in your room? They were especially yummi this time." His eyes were those of a boy, hopeful and eager for a next sugar rush. But Myka shook her head.  
"Sorry, Pete. But I will tell my mom you said that and that she should send you some the next time she bakes them." The disappointment in her partner's face made way for a brilliant smile at this last part.  
"Cool," he said. Then he seemed to become aware, though, that this left him without immediate culinary satisfaction. He looked at Helena: "You don't happen to have some more of that short bread, do you?" Both Myka and Helena laughed but Helena shook her head as if in regret.  
"Sorry, Peter, no more short bread." Pete made a face but pulled his head out of the door.  
"Thanks anyways," he mumbled as he closed the door leaving the women to themselves once again.  
"I swear I don't know where he puts all those calories," Myka laughed shaking her head at the now closed door.  
Helena, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about Pete already for she resumed her earlier position across Myka's lap, startling the agent who felt her eyes once again captured by the writer's. The earlier intimacy returned immediately, pulling them closer together.  
"I think we were about to kiss." Helena said and tilted her head. Myka nodded dumbly but closed the remaining space between them. Their lips met tentatively, softly and accompanied by a low sigh from the agent. Time, past and future, lost meaning, as the women latched onto the present and onto each other, their mouths pressing against one another eliciting sounds of tasting and pleasurable exploration. A moan mingled as tongues met for a sensual dance and Myka's hand tangled into the writer's hair to pull her even closer. They were but minutes the women spent like this but they were filled to overflow with feelings none of them had ever had. Breathlessly and wordlessly they parted, both dazed by the onslaught that had occured within.  
"Well, I should really let you go back to your book," Helena finally said and stood. Her hand went to the doorframe as if to steady herself and in truth she was. She opened the door, looking back once more. "Maybe we could continue this discussion at a later time?" she inquired of Myka who smiled slyly.  
"Maybe at a later date," came the answer from the bed and Helena opened her mouth. She caught Myka's meaning and smiled knowingly.  
"At a later date then," she affirmed before she slipped from the room and closed the door behind her.


End file.
